


Steady Against The Dark

by Dragonsigma



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Poisoning, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 09:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13187460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonsigma/pseuds/Dragonsigma
Summary: This time, it is Cala who is struck by a blade meant for the Emperor.





	Steady Against The Dark

This time, it is Cala who is struck by a blade meant for the Emperor.

Deret’s hurried examination reveals that the wound is far from fatal, merely a deep scratch in all truth; the blade had been thrown and it struck at an odd angle. But as they quickly realize, the physical injury is the least of their troubles.

Under the blood, there are marks of an oily substance on the blade, an unidentified poison that for several chilled moments Deret is certain was meant to kill. But they are lucky. 

Cala stays admirably steady as they hurry the Emperor to safety. Deret has long since learned not to be surprised when the Emperor immediately calls for a doctor and insists Cala sit to be examined. It may not be proper, but is more efficient than if they had been left to send for aid on their own, and that is something Deret is deeply grateful for at the moment. 

At last, they are dismissed, knowing little but that Cala's life is not in danger, though the Emperor insists they send word of his condition as soon as they are able. Through it all, Cala stays as calm and composed as he ever is, though Deret can see he is starting to shiver and is glancing around as if he expects an attack. It is only when they return to their quarters and are alone that Cala sits on his bed and buries his head in his hands and groans. 

“What is it?” Deret asks. Should he call a doctor? Approach Cala or keep his distance?

“I don't know,” Cala says, and this time Deret can hear the terror in his voice. “I’m… I am afraid. But there is no reason for it.”

What can he do to ease this baseless, painful fear?

“I will find a doctor,” he says, but Cala shakes his head. 

“No. Stay. Kiru said… it will wear off, in time.” How long that will be, they do not know. Deret longs to find an antidote, or at the very least something that might allow Cala to sleep through the worst of the effects. 

“I will not leave thee. But at least let me send a note.” 

Cala nods. Deret writes his letter and sends it, and then composes one to the Emperor. He wishes he could send better news, but Edrehasivar would want to know, good or bad, what was happening.

The response from Ushenar is far from heartening. He has nothing that will cure this faster than it will fade on its own. He offers a basic sedative instead, which Cala gratefully drinks, hands shaking faintly. 

The second attack of baseless terror comes so close on the heels of Ushenar's medicine that for a while Deret fears it might be a reaction. He does not say this aloud, unwilling to burden Cala with more fears than he already must bear. He nearly sends another note, but Cala again begs him to stay close. Deret has never seen Cala so vulnerable, not even in the darkest moments of their service, and the sight twists his heart and weighs in his stomach. He wonders what Cala might have done had it been he who took the blade, was afflicted with this curse. Surely whatever answer Cala would have would be better than Deret's meager offerings. 

“Speak to me,” Cala asks him, drawing his thoughts from their bitter wanderings. Cala's voice shakes, but the words are clear. “Please. On anything.”

Deret has never considered himself skilled at conversation, and it has been a long time since his young sisters demanded tales from him as they sat around the hearth after supper. But Cala wishes it, and so he will try. 

At first he fumbles for a topic, for words, but Cala does not protest, makes no indication that Deret is embarrassing himself with his ineptitude. Sometimes he seems not to hear, lost in the unnatural terror the poison has forced on him, but he encourages Deret when he falters and even manages a weak smile once or twice. 

By the time the medicine has begun to take effect and Cala is swaying where he sits, Deret starts to hope the poison has run its course.

They are not nearly so fortunate. The shivering takes hold of Cala’s skinny frame once again, turning his face pale and creased. 

“I did not think myself so pathetic,” Cala mutters, looking away.

“ _No_. Art brave, Cala,” Deret insists, nearly choked by his earnestness, his need to convince Cala he is far from weak. “Canst not blame thyself for this, any more than for bleeding from a wound, or becoming ill from bad food.”

Cala makes a small sound that isn't quite agreement, but it is not protest either, and so Deret accepts it, and watches as Cala lowers his head to his pillow and curls there, tense, unrestful. 

Deret does not quite know what he is doing when tucks an arm around Cala’s shoulders and pulls him close against his chest. Nor is he at all certain of himself when he begins to rub the back of Cala's neck in steady strokes, as he has seen Cala do when tired or anxious. But he knows that Cala must not be left to shiver alone and cold with whatever fear has gripped him. 

He does not know what to say, for whatever eloquence he had gained before has left him, but he must say something, and he settles for the first tolerable thing to come to mind. Cala will understand, he hopes. 

“Whatever thou fear’st, it is illusion. I will let no harm come to thee.” 

Cala says nothing in acknowledgment, but only presses forcefully against Deret in a way that leaves no doubt this was the right thing to do.

It is some time before Cala at last relaxes in sleep, and longer still before Deret is certain the poison’s effects are past and he finally, reluctantly, disentangles himself from his partner and tucks the blankets gently around him. 

Deret says nothing of the previous night to Cala when he wakes, and for his part Cala does not seem to remember. Deret is secretly relieved and somehow disappointed. 

They are friends, true, but this is not something a man typically does for a friend. 


End file.
